


Shivering In The Wilderness

by throughtheparadox



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughtheparadox/pseuds/throughtheparadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case of national importance sends Sherlock and Irene into the wilderness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shivering In The Wilderness

Annoyed.

For the past couple of hours, all Sherlock could think about were the profanities he wanted to throw at Mycroft for forcing him to handle a new case involving royalty. A secret service official (well, ex-official), ran away with an important piece of information that can compromise the security of the royal family and apparently, Sherlock was their last resort.

"Last resort… Pathetic!" He spat as he packed for the trip. Mycroft tracked down the official in a campsite six hours away from London, however, was hesitant to send people in. Their people are more of the fugitive’s colleague than his so he decided that his brother was the best bet.

"Oh stop cussing! This’ll be fun! I thought you loved field work?" He heard Irene Adler say. 

Sherlock darted his eyes towards her direction, seeing her smug expression. Of course she’ll be tagging along. He couldn’t just leave her here in Baker Street alone, despite Mycroft’s instructions. He kept on convincing himself that he wanted her with him because she can serve as an asset to this mission… But at the back of his mind, he just wanted to keep her close because she steadies him.

Living with The Woman for months isn’t as bad as Sherlock thought. She appeared on Sherlock’s bed one day, sleeping, her face reflecting restlessness and her arms and legs laced with bruises. When Sherlock inquired about her situation, she simply brushed him off. Secretly, he was pleased to know that she seek refuge in his home.

"Done packing, I assume?" He noted, looking at Irene’s small bag.

She nodded. “Just the necessities, darling.”

Sherlock smirked. “And I thought women like you take tons of luggage.”

Irene raised her eyebrows at him. “Women like me? I don’t believe you can meet anyone else like me, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock grunted. Why does she have to be right?

He turned back to packing, trying to ignore Irene’s camping outfit. She was sporting a fitted black shirt and faded jeans, trading her Louboutins for a pair hiking boots. Sherlock convinced himself over and over that his attraction to Irene Adler was limited to her intellectual capabilities and yet he found it hard to deny her physical beauty.

He was impressed by her tolerance the entire time they were hiking. Despite his attempts to help her, she shrugged him off and told him that she could handle herself just fine. He still snatched her bag and carried it all the way to the campsite despite her protests.

"I’ll set up the tent." Sherlock muttered as he started stretching the steel supports.

"Just one? Are you planning to seduce me tonight, Mr. Holmes?" Irene teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her and continued setting up the tent.

Irene watched the detective, surprised at how different he looked without his long coat and polished clothing. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue cotton shirt, his jeans hanging low on his hips. The lean muscles of his arms flexed as he struggled with the tent and Irene felt heat rush to her cheeks at the sight. Sherlock tried to blow away his dark curls as it fell over his eyes and Irene found the gesture adorable.

"I’ll gather some firewood then?" Irene mused, trying to avert her attention away from the detective.

Sherlock shook his head, wiping his palms on his trousers. “It’s dangerous. Just gather some twigs and leaves and get the lighter from my bag.” he instructed, steadying the tent.

The detective watched as Irene picked up twigs and dried leaves from the ground, her body curving gracefully everytime she reaches down. Her ponytail had come slightly undone, loose curls sweeping her cheeks. Sherlock bit his tongue to stop himself from giving compliments and turned away to busy himself in fixing the inside of the tent.

A few moments later, Sherlock emerged from the tent to see Irene by the bonfire, her skin glowing because of the firelight. Her cheeks were red and she kept on breathing on her fingers to keep them warm. Sherlock grabbed his coat from his bag and put it around Irene, grabbing her hands slightly as he did. Their eyes met, both questioning and Irene stared at Sherlock as the detective lifted her hands to his lips as he breathed on her fingers.

"Did you bring gloves?" Sherlock said, his voice barely a whisper.

Irene shook her head. “I didn’t know it’s going to be this cold.”

To her surprise, Sherlock smiled, fastening the buttons on the coat Irene was wearing. He stood up and grabbed his leather gloves from his pack, sliding them over Irene’s hands. The Woman found herself staring at the gentle expression on the detective’s face, her heart pounding violently on her chest.

Sherlock looked into her eyes as he held Irene’s hands, searching for… Well, he was unsure. What was he doing anyway? He found his gestures bizarre and very sentimental. What must she think of him? With that thought, he parted from Irene, regaining his stoic mask. Irene was taken aback by his sudden hesitation.

"I… I’m going to smoke." He said, not waiting for her response as he turned his back on her.

Sherlock sighed as he walked a few feet away from Irene, lighting a cigarette to keep his nerves steady. He let his guard down again, which happens often whenever he’s around Irene Adler.

The winds blew harshly and yet the only thing that Sherlock can feel is the heat building up in his body. His emotions were conflicting with his mind, all dwelling on Irene. They were here on a mission, he repeated to himself. He threw away the cigarette and rushed back to camp, realizing that the distance he kept didn’t even help.

"Hungry?" He asked her.

Irene raised her eyebrows, still snuggling inside his coat. “What’s on the menu?”

"Soup." Sherlock replied, opening a can. Irene laughed, noticing that Sherlock did prepare for this. He set the can over their fire and waited for the soup to boil.

After they ate, Sherlock noticed how Irene’s teeth chattered due to the coldness. The night was at its peak, darkness looming over them. He scooted next to Irene, rubbing his hands together and cupping her face to transfer the heat, dismissing all the restraints his mind was shouting.

"Aren’t you c—cold?" Irene asked, her lips almost pale.

Sherlock shook his head. “It’s not that cold, Ms. Adler.” He touched her forehead to check if she has a fever but her temperature was just the same as his. “It’s better if you stay inside the tent.”

Irene nodded and went was halfway in when she noticed that Sherlock wasn’t coming in with her.

"Mr. Holmes, a—-aren’t you going to j—-join me?" She asked. There wasn’t a trace of seduction or teasing in her tone, but rather, it sounded like a request. Sherlock hesitated for a moment, sighed, and found himself crawling in next to her.

"Someone has to keep watch." Sherlock muttered, lying next to Irene. The tent was not small, but not large either so their knees almost bump to each other as they lay face to face. Irene was definitely shivering, despite Sherlock’s coat and gloves on her and another layer of blanket.

"Are you s—-sure your bro—-ther got the loca—tion ri—-right? There’s no one h—-here but us." Irene pointed out.

Her words were drowned by the worry swirling inside Sherlock’s head. He has never seen her body react as violent as this. Wrapping his arms around her for the second time, Sherlock felt Irene tense.

"Shhh… Don’t worry about Mycroft now." Sherlock whispered and he felt Irene nod against his chest.

"I used to have weak lungs, you know. Quite the asthmatic." Irene muttered, snuggling closer.

Sherlock brushed a loose hair strand away from Irene’s cheek and smiled. “That explains a lot.”

Irene looked up at him and smiled back. “You actually think I’m invincible?”

The detective considered her question and nodded. “Yes. I believe I do.”

Irene’s smile grew wider. “How about you? Any weaknesses I need to know about?”

"You." he replied, biting his tongue as soon as he said it. It was one of those moments when his mouth acts even before his brain could stop it. He internally cursed himself.

Irene blushed despite the cold. She averted her eyes from him as she chuckled slightly upon hearing his reply. Knowing that there was nothing else he could do, Sherlock smiled.

"Mycroft had always warned me that I shouldn’t get involved with anything or anyone. I tend to be—-" he paused, searching for the right word.

"Clingy? Sentimental?" Irene supplied, still grinning.

"Yes. Sentimental." Sherlock replied, both of them now laughing.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Holmes. I thought sentiment was a bad thing?"

"I said it was a defect, definitely not a bad thing."

They stayed close to each other the entire night, just holding each other protectively, Sherlock’s lips touching Irene’s forehead. Their eyes grew heavy and they slept in each others’ arms, forgetting that the entire purpose of this camp out was to catch a fugitive. At that moment, they were alone in their own world.

The next morning, Sherlock felt Irene shuffle next to him, their eyes fluttering at the sound of voices coming from outside their tent. Before they untangled themselves from one another, somebody opened their tent.

And they were greeted by none other than Mary Watson.

"See! I told you it would work!" She squealed and they saw John peeping in next to her.

"Bloody bastard! This means I’ll be cooking the entire week. I should never have agreed to this bet." John exclaimed, shaking his head.

Sherlock and Irene scrambled to get out of the tent, both of them blushing immensely, confused and embarrassed to be found in such a situation. As they looked up, they saw Mycroft leaning against a tree, glaring at Mary and John.

"Mycroft, what is the meaning of this?" Sherlock hissed.

"It was their idea. I only joined in because they told mummy dearest. She was delighted about the idea and threatened to visit me for a month if I don’t help out." Mycroft replied, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock glanced at Irene, who was shaking her head, completely as lost as he is.

"Excuse me, but what is this about?" Irene asked, her hands to her hips, staring accusingly at John.

"Well, it’s about bloody time you get to talk about this thing you have for each other. The tension is killing all of us." John replied.

Mary nodded. “Sherlock doesn’t even know it but he talks about you all the time and well, Irene dear, whenever I visit you at Baker Street, you also do the same thing about him.”

"She used to be an asthmatic! She was shaking violently last night, thanks to all of you!" Sherlock spat, taking them all aback.

Without another word, he grabbed Irene’s hands and their bags, leaving the tent and John, Mary and Mycroft behind.

"So that means our plan worked, right?" Mary asked, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the two leaving hand in hand.

"I think we can deduce as much." Mycroft replied.


End file.
